


Love Letters and Losing Your Cool

by MelissaWritesStuff



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:37:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2154282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelissaWritesStuff/pseuds/MelissaWritesStuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whoever's leaving love letters in Tsukishima's bag during practice should really just sign their name already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Letters and Losing Your Cool

**Author's Note:**

> *Being reposted here from my tumblr*

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi called, making Tsukishima jump a little before he franticly tried stuffing the letter in his hands back into the envelope.

_Ah, you fucking idiot, who cares if it’s in the envelope?! Just_ hide _it._

Tsukishima slipped his bag off his shoulder to stuff the letter inside, but it slipped too far, through his hands and onto the ground. And then Yamaguchi was right behind him.

“What’s that?”

Tsukishima sighed. “Just another letter,” he muttered, as though finding these letters in his bag after practice was a huge inconvenience. No matter how crazy he was going, he still had to keep his cool around other people.

“Another one?” Yamaguchi asked, looking sympathetic toward Tsukishima’s plight. “What’s this, the fifth one?”

“I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve been keeping track,” Tsukishima said in a disgusted tone, as though it were obvious that Tsukishima wouldn’t keep track, when in reality, this was the fifteenth letter and Tsukishima had just been able to keep the other ten secret.

“What’s it say?” Yamaguchi leaned over to try and read the letter, but Tsukishima immediately crumpled it up.  _Shit, I didn’t actually want to do that..._

“Just a bunch of bullshit, I don’t know.” Tsukishima shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, safely storing the crumpled letter away from Yamaguchi. “Girls come up with the craziest stuff.”

“Are you sure it’s a girl?” Yamaguchi asked. “I mean, it totally looks like a guy’s handwriting.”

_Really, you think so too?_  Still, to test Yamaguchi’s handwriting analysis, Tsukishima pulled some notes out of bag. “What about these?”

“A girl’s, definitely.”

“These are  _mine_.”

“O-oh, I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Tsukishima said with a sigh.  _Looks like I can’t trust that opinion._  

“How many letters do you think they’ll send before they reveal who they are?” Yamaguchi asked.

“I’m not sure. It’d be nicer if they just stopped altogether.”  _Lie. Blatant lie._

Maybe that’s all how Tsukishima had felt after the first letter, but after he’d gotten a few of them... Well, they were actually really nice. It wasn’t your stereotypical, “I’m so in love with you, but I’m too shy to speak to you! You’re so cool and funny and-” blah, blah, blah. That might do it for other people, but what was the point of a bunch of generic compliments from someone who couldn’t even show their face? The kind of stuff people wrote in most anonymous love letters just pissed Tsukishima off. Like, you put in all this effort, but congratulations, you’re still single. What was the point of confessing if you weren’t actually going to try and get a date out of it? It was all just pointless and stupid.

But Tsukishima’s letters were different. The writer didn’t use pointless, cliched compliments. Whoever this mystery person was, they flat out said from the first letter, “I don’t even know why I like you, to be honest.” Which, well, was kind of insulting, at first. But with each letter, they included a couple new reasons they had thought up why they liked him, anything from his cruel sense of humor to the way his butt looked in his volleyball uniform (that one, thank God, was in a letter Yamaguchi had  _not_  seen). Sometimes, the writer just told Tsukishima stories about what was going on in their life, just to vent. Sometimes they told jokes. Once, they made a list of things they’d like to do to Tsukishima if they were alone together (again, that letter was kept  _far_  from Yamaguchi).

Whoever this was, they hadn’t put Tsukishima on some ridiculous pedestal. They seemed to actually kind of understand who Tsukishima was and that’s what they liked and... well, frankly, Tsukishima had kind of fallen for whoever was writing them. Well, as much as you can fall for a nameless, faceless person.

Still, it’s not like he was ever going to find out who was writing them. First line of the first letter,

_“It’s not really that I’m afraid to talk to you. I just already know that if you knew who I was, you’d laugh in my face. And I wouldn’t blame you either. And I don’t really wanna deal with that, so I’m just going to stay anonymous.”_

But hell, Tsukishima wanted to know who it was  _so_  bad. They never gave any clues to their identity, and the only thing Tsukishima could guess was, just from the way they talked and their messy handwriting, that they were a boy. Which... Tsukishima was surprisingly into. Maybe. He still wasn’t sure, but the idea didn’t repulse him like he’d expected it to. Still, all this would all be made a lot simpler if he could just meet the writer...

_If only there was some way I could contact them... Maybe I could convince them to confess?_  

“Maybe you could write them a letter,” Yamaguchi suggested.

Tsukishima froze.  _Fuck, did you just read my thoughts? Did I say some of that out loud?!_

“Y’know, just ask them to stop sending you stuff.”

_Oh, thank God._  “How would I get it to them?” Tsukishima asked, trying harder than ever to stay calm about everything. “I don’t know who they are.”

“Just leave it in your bag somewhere they’ll find it before you go to practice.”

“Yamaguchi, you’re a genius.”  _Or rather, I’m just an idiot..._

Yamaguchi, who was not at all used to receiving praise from Tsukishima like that, immediately turned bright red. “W-what?!”

~

It was three in the morning, and Tsukishima had to be at school in a few hours, and he had practice after, and probably a mountain of homework to finish after  _that_ , and he was going to have to do all of that on such little sleep, and the idea of it made him feel physically ill. And yet, he remained, hunched over his desk, surrounded by a sea of crumpled up papers because he just couldn’t word this goddamn letter right.

How should it be written? Should it be sappy? Should Tsukishima be honest? Aloof? He didn’t have the luxury of anonymity, and anything he said could be held against him. If he laid all of his feelings bare, feelings for a person he had never actually met, he could make a great fool of himself. But if he played it too cool, well, fuck, who was that going to convince? Should he say he liked the letters? Respond to some of the stories? Remark how awful some of the puns were? Admit that he liked that one letter about them being alone together a little too much? How long should it be? Should it be a dramatic plea or should he just ask him to confess in a few demanding sentences? He knew this asshole’s favorite song, and their troubles at school, and what their father was like, and exactly where on their body they wanted to be kissed. But he had no fucking clue how they would react to anything he had to say.

In the end, his exhaustion won out and he ended up blunt about it.

_“To the asshole writing me letters,_

_Look, I get that you don’t want to have to deal with rejection, but I would really like to know who’s been writing these. I’ll even promise that I won’t laugh in your face. I just want to know who you are, okay? I like the letters. I just don’t like not knowing who’s writing them._

_Yours, maybe, if you’d fucking tell me who you are,_

_Tsukishima Kei_

Maybe the swearwords were a little unnecessary, but it was too early in the morning for Tsukishima to care. Tact was for people who had enough sleep. He sealed it up into an envelope, addressed it as best as he could, and finally went to bed, the newest letter smoothed out and folded neatly under Tsukishima’s pillow.

~

After a day that was absolutely hell, Tsukishima came back to his bag to find his own letter still there, with no new letter in its place. Which he should’ve expected, because he had never gotten a letter two days in a row. It was usually at least a week in between. Which meant he’d stayed up so late for absolutely no reason.

_If this was happening to someone else, you would’ve already make a thousand jokes about how stupid they are._

His agitation at finding his own letter still in his bag grew and grew each day, and he could feel himself becoming even more intolerable than usual. Even Yamaguchi couldn’t go long without getting on his nerves. And Tsukishima knew he was being awful, but he did nothing about it. He was too impatient for this kind of thing...

One day, a week and three days after receiving the letter, Tsukishima didn’t bother helping to clean up the gym before going to get changed. It’s not like anyone wanted him there, anyway. Only, just before he stepped in the locker room, he heard Kageyama and Hinata already inside and... having a surprisingly quiet conversation, for the two of them.

_What, have they finally confessed for each other?_  Tsukishima thought with a smirk before he realized he was in a situation a little too similar for him to be cracking jokes.

“What’s the problem?” Kageyama hissed.

“There’s already a letter here!”

Tsukishima felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“What? Open it.”

_Is one of them the one writing the letters? One of them likes me? One of_ them _?_

Hinata gasped. “He wants to know who’s writing the letters!”

_I’m pretty sure I literally and actually cannot breathe._

“Seriously?” Kageyama asked, a sudden crumpling of paper indicating he’d ripped it from Hinata’s hands.

“Ouch, hey, you could’ve just asked for it!” Hinata complained. “You gave me a paper cut-”

“Sh,” Kageyama hissed. “Quiet, you don’t want someone to overhear us.”

_Or are they both writing them? Is this a big joke? Are they just trying to mess with me? I can’t fucking breathe._

“What do we do?” Hinata asked.

“Here, we’ll leave the new letter,” Kageyama said.  _Fuck, it really is them isn’t it?_  “And you can just give this one to Kenma-kun next time you see him.”

Tsukishima somehow felt like he could breathe even less.  _Kenma? Kenma, the setter from Nekoma? He’s the one writing me letters? Why the fuck would Kenma like me?_

“Right,” Hinata agreed. “What do you think Kuroo-san will do?”

“Kuroo?!” Tsukishima suddenly blurted out before clapping a hand over his mouth.  _I don’t think you have ever lost your cool so hard before._

“Tsukishima?” Hinata squeaked.

Knowing he was busted, Tsukishima stepped inside, glaring them both down as if he hadn’t just made a huge idiot of himself.

“You were eavesdropping?” Kageyama snapped, glaring just as hard.

“You two have been sneaking love letters into my bag?” Tsukishima shot back.

Neither of them responded.

Tsukishima sighed and adjusted his glasses. “You want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?”

Kageyama remained silent, but Hinata was an open book. “Kuroo’s been writing the letters and giving them to Kenma who’s been giving them to me and Kageyama’s helping me sneak them into your bag.”

“You dumbass,” Kageyama mumbled.

“What? He already heard the whole thing!”

“So Kuroo’s the one behind all this?” Tsukishima said coolly, as though he didn’t suddenly feel strangely heartbroken. He stepped forward and grabbed his bag. “Well. Should’ve known it was just someone fucking with me. If you could ask Kuroo to stop sending them, that’d be great.”

Tsukishima turned to leave, not really caring that he was still in his gross practice clothes and just wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.  _Why did they have to read the letter? Now they know I liked the letters, fuck, why did I write that, fuck, fuck, fuck-_

“Tsukishima!” Hinata called after him. Tsukishima didn’t turn around, but Hinata kept talking. “He’s not just messing with you! He really likes you!”

Tsukishima stopped and turned, smirking at Hinata. “Oh, really?”  _Why the hell would he like me? He’s two years older, he goes to a different school, he could have his pick of anyone, with his stupid looks..._

_Ah, fuck, I’m not actually attracted to Kuroo, am I?!_

“Yes, really!” Hinata said. “When Kenma first told me about it-”

“Y’know, it really doesn’t matter whether Kuroo means it or not,” Tsukishima interrupted. Hinata slumped his shoulders in disappointment. “Either way, I’m not interested.”

Which wasn’t true, not in the slightest, but Tsukishima just turned and kept walking away. Fuck, that was a lot to take in all of the sudden... So the person writing all those letters... The one that had a secret love for cheesy pop songs and was struggling with his math grades and didn’t get along with his dad and wanted to know what Tsukishima’s lips felt like on his neck-

Fuck,  _fuck_ , this wasn’t happening... What was Kuroo trying to gain from this, anyway? Mess with Tsukishima’s head before a match? Get Tsukishima to fall for him just because he could? Maybe the letters weren’t even supposed to work and he was just trying to annoy Tsukishima. That was his specialty, right? Getting under people’s skin, provoking people... Fuck, what made Tsukishima his target, anyway?

“Kuroo...” Tsukishima mumbled to himself. “What a joke.”

_Nice to see that getting my hopes up was a huge waste._

~

“ _Kuroo?!_ ”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” Kuroo chuckled. “Can I come in?”

_Kuroo. Kuroo is at my house. It’s noon on a Saturday and Kuroo is visiting my house._

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes. “Is this a joke?”

“No, it’s actually kind of cold out here, and I’d like to come in. Your parents home?”

“No,” Tsukishima mumbled as he stepped aside, feeling a little like he couldn’t breathe again. The absolute  _last_  thing he’d expected to happen after finding out about Kuroo was Kuroo actually showing up at his house.

“Thanks,” Kuroo said with his signature smirk as he stepped inside.  _Why. Why are you here? For what possible reason could you be showing up at my house?_

Tsukishima took a deep breath to compose himself. He’d lost his cool too many times in the past few weeks.

“You okay?” Kuroo asked, raising an eyebrow in concern but looking like he was enjoying himself all too much. “You seem flustered.”

“Sorry, I’m just feeling a bit ill,” Tsukishima said, “after remembering some of the drivel you put in those letters.”

Kuroo looked unfazed, moving on without skipping a beat. “Are we just going to stand right in front of the doorway the whole time, or...?”

“We are until you explain yourself,” Tsukishima said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What do you want me to explain?” Kuroo asked, infuriatingly calm about all of this.

“Why are you here?”

“Kenma told me that you caught Hinata delivering the letter,” Kuroo said with a shrug. “I figured as long as I was busted, I might as well at least talk to you about it.”

“Why were you having Hinata deliver letters?”

“Shit, Tsukki, did you honestly think I was going to make the three-hour trip to delivery each letter personally?”

_His stupid fucking laugh..._ “Why did you write the letters in the first place?” Tsukishima snapped.

“Because I like you.”

“You’re sticking with that, huh?”

Kuroo cocked his head, looking plainly amused. “You don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

And just before Tsukishima could asked what “okay” was supposed to mean, Kuroo took Tsukishima’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Tsukishima immediately pushed him away, wiping his lips on the back of his hand while some part of his brain was taunting him for actually enjoying it.

“Do you believe me now?”

“What kind of sick bastard are you, that you would go that far just to mess with me?” Tsukishima snapped.

Kuroo just laughed. “Why do you just refuse to accept that I might have feelings for you?”

“ _Why would you_?”

Kuroo just stared at Tsukishima a moment, some emotion in his eyes that Tsukishima couldn’t quite read. Still, before Tsukishima could really question it, Kuroo said simply, “Your sense of humor.”

Tsukishima scoffed. “What?”  _Please tell me you’re not about to do what I think you’re about to do._

“I like your sick, twisted sense of humor,” Kuroo repeated. “And you’re smart. Not just smart, but witty. The way you rile people up before a game? You’re almost as good as I am.”

“Tch. Is that supposed to-”

“And the face you make when you play volleyball,” Kuroo continued over him, as if Tsukishima hadn’t even said anything. “Y’know, when you forget that you’re trying to be cool and aloof, and you actually try.”

“I’m not trying to be-”

“I like how you always look pissed off without trying.”

“Okay, so far, these have all been insults,” Tsukishima snapped, ignoring the fact that these were all the words he’d secretly been reading over and over before he went to bed.

“It’s cute,” Kuroo added, as if that suddenly made it better. Too bad it didn’t. At all.  _Right?_

“You’re pathetic.”

“C’mon, Tsukki, I wrote you sixteen letters of this shit, do I really have to repeat it all?”

“Fifteen,” Tsukishima corrected.

“Nope, sixteen. You just never got the last one.”

_Fuck, that’s right, Hinata was about to leave a letter, wasn’t he?_

“Yeah? What’d it say?” Tsukishima scoffed as if he wasn’t insanely curious.

“I’ll tell you if you believe me.”

Tsukishima didn’t answer, just glaring at Kuroo instead.

“Tsukki?”

Tsukishima still didn’t answer. Because he did believe that Kuroo liked him, but he thought he was completely mistaken to.

“What about you?” Kuroo asked. “Do you like me?”

“Why would I?” Tsukishima mumbled.

“I’m handsome, charismatic, athletic... take your pick.”

“You arrogant prick.”

“You self-deprecating bastard.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“That’s what this is, isn’t it? It’s not that you don’t believe me, but you don’t believe someone would like you.”

“Get out,” Tsukishima said coolly.

Kuroo actually laughed. “You’re kicking me out?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kuroo said quickly, stepping in front of the door before Tsukishima could open it for him. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Get. Out.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“ _Kuroo, get the fuck out of my house._ ”

“Tsukki, could you please just hear me out?”

“You have thirty seconds.”

“Listen, I’m an asshole, right?”

“I’m surprised you have to ask.”

“So you’d believe that I was shallow enough just to like you for looks, right?”

Tsukishima hesitated. That was more believable, definitely, but... it was also kind of worse. “I guess.”

“Yeah, you’re tall, and I got a thing for glasses, and I think you’re hot. You believe me?”

“Kuroo, what’s your point?”

“So if this was about me thinking you’re hot and wanting to make out with you, would you let me?”

Tsukishima clenched his jaw. As infuriating as Kuroo was... ugh, that was so tempting,  _why_  was that so tempting? Still, before he had really made up his mind, he found himself saying, “Sure.”

“Perfect.” Kuroo reached for Tsukishima again and kissed him.

And it was good, it was  _so_  damn good...  _How_  was it so damn good? All it was was Kuroo’s lips on his, then his tongue tracing Tsukishima’s lower lip until his lips parted, then Kuroo’s tongue moving against Tsukishima’s. It was just his hands slipping under Tsukishima’s shirt so he could touch his bare skin as he pulled his waist closer, and Kuroo’s soft hair between Tsukishima’s fingers. That’s all it was. But fuck, did it make Tsukishima feel so,  _so_  good...

Kuroo pulled away after a minute or two, sooner than Tsukishima would’ve liked but even so, he was already so out of breath.

“So,” Kuroo mumbled, his lips still close enough that Tsukishima could feel his breath on his skin as he spoke. “How many times do I have to make the trip from Tokyo until I convince you that I like you for more than your looks?”

“One for each of those shitty letters you wrote me,” Tsukishima managed, his mind moving a thousand times slower than usual (unlike his heart, which was pounding in his chest).

Kuroo mumbled, “I can do that.”

“I still want that last letter.”

“I’ll give it to you once we’re done kissing.”

“So not any time soon then.”

Kuroo grinned. “I knew I liked you.”

“I still think you suck.”

“Oh, trust me, the feeling is mutual,” Kuroo chuckled. “I just don’t mind it so much.”

Before Tsukishima could respond, Kuroo’s lips were back on his.

_So that’s how he likes me. He still thinks I suck, but just doesn’t mind..._

Tsukishima actually smiled a little against the kiss as he wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s neck.  _Maybe that’s not so unbelievable after all..._

**Author's Note:**

> {[Fan art](http://bakashouyou.tumblr.com/post/133633610198/love-letters-and-losing-your-cool-is-the-realest) by [bakashouyou](http://bakashouyou.tumblr.com/).}


End file.
